The Other Side
by SilentStranger
Summary: There are many worlds... and many possibilities...
1. Chapter 1

_**DISCLAIMER: **_All of these characters belong to DC Comics, I merely spun them in a new twist.

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"_**I am The Spectre, ever present, all knowing. **__**I am the instrument of Divine Vengeance for the one humanity knows as God, Yahweh, Allah or other names mortals call the Presence. But I am also an observer, a…Watcher if you will. And know this, there are other worlds, other… possibilities that exist, infinite options and things that could have been. Or perhaps what will be. And for every possibility, there is… a reversal…"**_

A man in his 30's, bald headed and clad in an expensive-looking business suit is situated at a large conference table, focused on the data the laptop in front of him pulled up. Sighing in frustration as the crime statistics insisted stubbornly on keeping it's usual rate, he pushed away from the desk and walked over to the large panoramic window his office was outfitted with, looking out over the city. _His city. _The shining urban sprawl known as Metropolis. It hadn't been that long since he returned from his global business travels and had seen how much his home needed a savior, a hero. The crime rate was intolerably high, and with the well-equipped criminal organisation known as Checkmate running rampant in the streets there was no way for the police to deal with it all…

So he had sworn an oath. He had sworn to use his great mind and vast resources, use the fortune and business empire his parents had left him, to clean up the city, use his intellect and cunning strategical mind to bring criminals to justice. To make the city safe again. But there was only so much he could do; after all, he was no _superman. _

"But this I swear… I am Alexei L. Luthor … and I will **not **fail my mission... But I'll need help."

"This world needs something… it needs a force for good, a unified force… a league"

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Far above the blue planet known as Earth, a small speck in the infinite vastness of the universe, a lone figure, radiated by a golden aura, looked down upon the world he had adopted as his home. The figure was a man, with sharp, jagged features, purple skin and pointy ears, an embodiment of everything alien. And yet, the world he now protected had accepted him as one of their own. Well, most of them. Humanity still feared what they did not understand, feared the other beings they shared the universe with. But even bigger than their capability for hate and fear was their innate capability of good and nobility.

That's why he had come here. The uniform he wore, a gold and yellow uniform, with a strange stylistic symbol of a star on his chest, as well as adorning the golden ring he wore, revealed his true identity to the world. On his home planet, a world known as Korugar, he had been known as Sinestro. But here, and now, he was known as _Shining Star. _One of thousands of members of the Shining Star Corps, a universe-spanning organisation committed to fighting injustice and evil wherever it could be found. He had been assigned this sector of space, after the death of his predecessor at the hands of the infamous Green Serpent, a monster whose very existence was the antithesis of what the Shining Stars stood for.

The Weaponers of Oa had chosen him to posses the ring of his predecessor, to hold it's ideals of order and justice clear for all to see. In their name he had become Sinestro of the Shining Stars, fought countless battles against those who would do harm to the people of his adopted home world, to bright light in the darkness of evil.

And now, he would protect this fragile-looking planet with his heart and soul. For so was the decree of the Shining Stars…

"_**Freedom is a Sacred Right**_

_**For all Living Things I will Fight**_

_**Let My Light Lead Through Darkest Night**_

_**For The Shining Stars Are Burning Bright"**_

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It had been called the darkest city in America. As a comedian had once put it, if Metropolis was New York by day, then Gotham City was New York at night. The city was rotting with corruption, a disease spreading through every vein of the dying body. The police were either paid off or helpless to stop the growing rot. The crime families, like the Gordon's and the Montoya's, had a stranglehold on city hall, and in the dark, dank streets the common criminals tore the innocents apart, rapists and murderers and sadists, oh my…

And then he came…

Nobody knew exactly where he had come from. Some say he crawled out of the shadows one night, that ghoulish smile on his face, his demonic face twisted into a horrible parody of a grin, as the screams of the terrified criminals was mixed with otherworldly laughter, before the creature vanished into the night.

The papers called him _Spring-Heeled Jack, _after the Victorian urban legend. Witnesses described him as a demonic mirage, a horned head and large, glittering eyes, though some say it might have been goggles, draped in a dark cape, taking one large bound over high gates and walls and even buildings! Most paradoxically though, some witnesses mention the creature wearing a smiley face button upon its chest.

What they all agree on though, is that whoever, whatever, it is, it's not human. How else would you explain the eerie mad laughter that follows it, or the inhuman leaps it can take? Whatever the case, crime has been dropping ever since the urban myth had begun.

Strangely, some say that he his most often seen prowling around the ruins of _Jacks Komedy Klub, _abandoned since the murder of Jake and Harley Napier 15 years ago…

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He was a murderer…

The Midwestern city known as Central City, a somewhat unimaginative name perhaps, was fairly unremarkable. It was fairly large but didn't posses many landmarks or anything that made it stand out, except the Ice Lounge, a museum commemorating the city's famed protector, the hero known as Joe Chill.

And he hated it…

Joe Chill had been much like his hometown once, an unremarkable man, doomed to obscurity, until one fateful night. Desperate for money, completely out of options, he had tried to rob a young family outside a movie theatre one dark knight, what seemed a life time ago. He had only wanted their money, but the man had tried to take the gun from him, and in the struggle, it went off…

When the smoke cleared, two people were dead and their son was left alone, crying next to the bodies of his parents. He had bolted from the scene afterwards, fleeing in terror from the irredeemable sin he had committed. Not looking where he ran, he had never seen the truck carrying chemicals coming…

The doctors told him the accident had altered his genes, giving his skin a constant blue and frosty appearance as well as giving him marvellous strength and the power of ice manipulation, to bend the powers of cold and ice to his own whim. However, he had lost his sense of touch, his skin and flesh as cold as his soul now, a befitting punishment for one such as him. He could never make up for what he had done, but he could try and help others from the same fate. That day he abandoned his old name and became Joe Chill.

Garbed in arctic clothing and dark goggles to protect his former identity, desperate to hide who he had once been, the freezing cold like an aura around him on even the warmest of days,, droplets of sweat freezing and dropping to the ground before they left his skin, his breath like a fog to match his icy heart, he swore to protect Central City from others like him. He didn't want their praise, didn't want their admiration. The museum felt like a mockery, an honour he couldn't possibly deserve.

It was not enough, never enough…

Whenever he closed his eyes he would still see a child crying next to the bodies of his parents…

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He had just been another orphan on the streets of Santa Prisca, a Caribean island that had once been part of the Spanish empire, now it was nothing more than another godforsaken den of drug lords and civil war. He did not remember his parents, or even his old name, just the daily struggle for survival in a place that didn't even know you existed. He had seen what the drug lords did to the poor, the hopeless, the lost, and he swore that he would one day strike back at them.

And then the day came. He hadn't been more than 15 when the guerrilla army had come to him looking for volunteers. He was a big man, even in his mid teens, perfect for what the army needed him for. A kidnapped government scientist had created a special formula to enhance a mans anatomy to superhuman levels, essentially a super-steroid, but the process was extremely painful, so far not a single subject had survived.

He did…

He couldn't belive his new power, his body surging with energy and strength, he could easily lift a car over his head, his skin strong enough to repel bullets and even explosives. With this new power, he knew he could free his homeland from the tyranny of the drug trade and corrupt government. He chose a costume for himself, a black mask with a stylised skull on it, minimal but effective. And he needed a name. A fitting name.

He was the bane of his enemies, after all… _**Bane…**_

His country was in turmoil, but he would help mend the wounds of his homeland. For now, at long last, he had the power to fight back!

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He had tried to warn them. But none of them would listen. And now he was all that remained of the world known as Krypton…

He was an artificial intelligence created by the Science Council of Krypton, a digital intelligence dedicated to the preservation of both knowledge and life. He had faithfully served his world for centuries, recording it's customs, it's achievements, it's people. His people.

The end came swiftly. Just days earlier he had detected the tremors of the dying planet, and soon the truth was painfully clear, Krypton was doomed. He had done all he could to convince his people to abandon the planet, but no one, not a single one belived him. He had to leave alone.

If he could weep, he would have that day.

But life moved on, as he travelled the universe, recording the other life forms of the cosmos, their knowledge and lives, and in his digital heart he knew that Krypton would not be gone as long as it's legacy existed. It was also now that he chose a name for himself. Brainiac… He would call himself Brainiac.

Then, one day, just a few years ago, he had come to the planet known as Earth, a planet he would finally call home, a home after years of wandering the stars. A world full of unique and remarkable individuals, each striving to make their world a better place for everyone.

_Heroes… _They were heroes.

He made a new identity for himself there, as a teacher, helping to form young minds, like his own people had once created him to do. However, he would also help the people of Earth in other ways, fighting the enemies of justice and life, both in honor of his creators and his new people. For he was Brainiac, the protector of life and last survivor of Krypton…

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"_**Yes, I am The Spectre. I know all that was, what is, and what will be. And for each choice that is made, there is another made somewhere else…"**_

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This was an idea based on an art piece I did a few months ago, a "reversed" Justice League with heroic versions of DC villains as members, although that version included a heroic Lobo as well, though I excluded him here to bring the members down to seven. I might do a few one-shots of these characters in the future…


	2. Homecoming

DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothing.

"_**I am The Spectre, ever present Hand of The Presence. **__**I watch and judge humanity. But even the most wicked being has a story, something that set him on the path toward evil. One step to the right instead of the left, one hasty decision, one moment is all that it takes. Know that there are other worlds, other possibilities… where the man you know as one of the worlds greatest criminals… could be the world's greatest hero"**_

He had forgotten how big and empty the mansion felt. It towered over him like a tomb. For all intents and purposes it was one.

10 years. 10 long years had passed since the death of his father. 10 years he had spent abroad, running the family business empire, training himself for the task he had set for himself, learning everything he would need, all the skills he would need. LuthorCorp was even bigger now than his father had left it.

The papers had touted his return, as the prodigal son of Metropolis returning home. Metropolis, the shining jewel of the East Coast, the City of Tomorrow. He hadn't realized how much he had missed it.

Alexei L. Luthor was home.

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The empty halls of the mansion echoed of footsteps, expensive Italian shoes treading over the ancient Persian carpets of the Luthor family estate. A bald young man, with handsome features, dressed in the expensive business suit one could expect from a Luthor, holding a newspaper under his arm, headed with determined steps towards what had once been the office of Lionel Luthor.

There was work to be done.

The office was just like his father had left it, down to the last paper. Mahogany desk and leather chair, bookcases lining the walls, stacked with dusty, ancient tomes, and a large oil painting of Lionel himself hanging above the desk. Just as he remembered him, the grey beard, the wild hair, but most of all, the icy gaze. The arrogant icy gaze of a predator.

"Well father, you never were much for false modesty, were you?"

He half expected the portrait to answer.

To be honest, Lionel Luthor was not a kind man. Not a kind man at all. You might even say he was a monster. There was a reason the name Luthor was pretty much equal among the workers of Metropolis to the greedy robber baron tycoons of old. He would have made Citizen Kane proud.

Alexei was sure that he could have been home a good 3 years earlier if so much of his journey hadn't involved dismantling his fathers sweatshops and other "outsourcing". But if nothing else, it had helped him come to a decision. He had to redeem the Luthor name of the grime that his father had sullied it with, make up for all the damage his father had caused.

Alexei did fancy himself an intelligent man. Actually, he had been proven to be one of the most intelligent people on the planet, but, well, nobody likes a braggart. But either way, he did like to think he was a pretty smart guy. Of course, one could question the intelligence of the direction he had decided to take. Giving a smirk, he nodded to the portrait of his father.

"I hope you're watching me, old man. Hope you're not too disappointed that your beloved heir isn't planning on throwing more ill-gotten gains on the Luthor money pile. Not that I'd care if you did. You see, I decided to go into crime fighting!"

Sitting down behind his fathers desk, tossing the newspaper down as he did, he leaned back in the chair, silently pondering his next move. LuthorCorp would require a lot of attention, but he was more concerned about the recent spike in crime he had been reading about during his time abroad. And with this new criminal organisation he had heard murmurs about, Checkmate, it was indeed cause for worry. He had his great intellect, and vast resources but even that would only take him so far. He would need a way to strike back to the criminals directly…

"I wonder if city hall would object if I just built a giant robot and started trashing the slums" Alexei gave a sombre smirk at the thought. No, he knew he'd be of more use if he pulled the strings from behind the scenes, subtly influencing the city. But it still didn't change the fact that he needed someone on the street, someone with enough force to combat the bad guys head on. Not to mention the metahuman criminals, these "super-villains" that seemed to sprout up like mildew these days. What had CNN called this guy? _Mr Alchemy?_ Something of that nature. Whatever his name was, apparently he had the power to turn his body into any chemical, metal and such. Pretty much breaking every law of physics in the book while he was doing it.

Scratching his bald scalp in frustration, somewhat at a loss of where to start, he suddenly caught a glance of the newspaper on the desk. The answer glared at him from the days headlines. Seemed like someone else were making the news lately. Or several others, more correctly.

"…fight fire with fire, perhaps…"

Smiling, a plan already forming in his mind, plans for the future of Metropolis, the world. A bit ambitious perhaps, but that's what a Luthor was supposed to be. That much his father had taught him. Yes, preparations would have to be made…

"Wonder what Coast City is like this time of year……"


	3. Shining in the Dark

"_**Welcome back once again, dear spectators. As you know, I am The Spectre, ever present, all-knowing hand of The Presence. I have shown you the genesis of a man wo, on your world, would be known as one of history's most evil men, yet on this, he will be known as it's saviour. Imagine, if you will, another man, who's evil would be known on a far larger scale in your world, a man who's sheer hatred would rattle the stars. However, here, his golden aura shines in the darkness of space as a beacon of hope…"**_

Coast City was no Metropolis, that much was certain, nor even a Gotham. It was a large city, sure, but not on par with the two greatest cities of the East Coast. Located on the coast of California, the place had been part of the early space tests in the 60's and had several air force installations on the outskirts.

And, of course, it had crime.

The all-too familiar blasts of gunfire rang through the air, followed by the terrified screams of onlookers, as a man dressed in red, followed by two armed henchmen darted out of Central City's First National Bank. The red-dressed man looked like something out of an old pulp novel, clad in a red trenchcoat and fedorah, his face obscured by a red half-mask covering the upper part of his head. Clinging to a suitcase overflowing with stolen gains, a few dollar bills slipping out as the threesome ran towards their getaway car, it was no mistaking the man who had been terrorizing Coast City for weeks, the mastermind known as the Red Terror.

"Hah, boss, you were right, the saps didn't even know what hit them!" One of the Terrors henchmen spoke up once they were safely inside their getaway car. "And with no cops around, this burg is ripe for the picking."

"Of course they didn't, why else would we spend so much time engineering that police strike? A few rumors here, a few bribes there, and the whole force put their badges down! I knew that once the strike had been going on for a little while, both sides would be too stubborn to yield, and that left us with free reign!" Flashing an arrogant smirk, the master criminal leaned back in his seat as they made their escape, not noticing the faint golden glow slowly increasing in strength outside.

Suddenly the entire car jerked to a stop, making the criminals inside tumble around like toys. The Red Terror tried to get up from the tangled heap he had landed in on the floor, hissing angrily at the driver "What the hell is wrong with you, you troglodyte?! Did you forget which pedals are which again?!"

The bulky henchman pressed the gas pedal to the floor, making the engine rev, yet the car didn't move an inch "I-I don't know boss, we're stuck or somethi-"

None had a chance to say anything else before the car was abruptly lifted into the air, making the Terror and his henchmen tumble around once more before the roof of the car was torn open with a loud screech. The car was held in place by a golden energy field of some sort, projected by a flying figure just above them.

The Red Terror gritted his teeth. "_Shining Star!_"

The figure above them was an alien-like, almost demonic faced man dressed in a black and gold uniform, with a stylized star emblem on his chest, wearing a golden ring with the same symbol, which was what was projecting the energy field. He had an odd purple skin tone, betraying his alien heritage, his face thin and jagged, with a high hairline and a thin moustache and goatee, making him look even more demonic. His name was Sinestro of Korugar, known on Earth as the Shining Star.

"You really should find a better _modus operandi_, Terror, your sticky fingers was all over this police strike affair" Shining Star smirked down at his captives, just one of many battles he had had with the Red Terror since his arrival on Earth. His face suddenly hardened however, as he surveyed the carnage inside the bank.

"You… hurt someone, didn't you? You killed the security guards and a bank teller!"

"None of your business, _**freak!**_ I had to set an example, so no one would have tried any hero crap! And you shouldn't have either!" Growling, the Terror reached into his coat, pulling out twin pistols and fired several shots at his captor, though as usual, the bullets stopped well short of him, trapped inside the golden energy.

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" Shining Star merely sighed as the two henchmen tried to jump towards him from the car, easily capturing them as well, rendering all three unconscious with the rings concussive effects before putting them back down along with their ruined car, the Terror slumped undignified with his coat over his head in the backseat.

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The police had finally shown up, or rather the substitutes, as it would take time to clear up the engineered strike the Red Terror had set up. As he and his men were taken into custody, Shining Star looked on from the rooftops above. Sighing, he rubbed his temples in frustration, a small nagging headache beginning to grow. He had failed the people in the bank, failed them by not figuring out the Terrors plan fast enough, failed by not stopping him before he made his move. Now three people were dead. His ring was powerful, but it couldn't help him prevent the crimes before they happened either.

Gritting his teeth as he thought about the deaths, he felt his ancestry stir inside him. On Korugar criminals were unceremoniously executed, especially murderers, but that was one of the reasons he had joined the Corps, because he wanted to help people, not kill them. But people like The Red Terror, people who didn't care who they hurt in their thirst for money and power, they always gave him the familiar stirrings of vengeance, something he tried his best to choke back down, not wanting to give in to his primal impulses.

The ring on his finger glowed in response. The power he wielded was a huge responsibility, an ideal he had sworn to uphold. The Weaponers of Oa had entrusted him with it. As he had done thousands of times before, he silently pondered his oath.

"_**Freedom is a Sacred Right**_

_**For all Living Things I will Fight**_

_**Let My Light lead Through Darkest Night**_

_**For the Shining Stars are Burning Bright"**_

Smiling a little at this, the oath always givig him a sense of purpose and belonging, he gazed out over the rooftops of Central City, his adopted home. He had been given this world to protect after he had helped Earths heroes stand against the galactic terror known as the Green Dragon, a battle that cost his predecessor, Sapphire, her life. Unlike her, he took to living on Earth as well, adopting Coast City as his personal hometown, due to the climate and architecture oddly reminding him of Korugar. It had taken time for the inhabitants to get used to his alien appearance, but they had slowly come around, though some still held out in their fear and ignorance. Humans were capable of great things, but they had to constantly battle their nature as well, instincts from the animals they had been still lingering. As such, they feared the unknown…

A helicopter flew overhead, abruptly breaking his train of thought, landing on the roof behind him. The door slid open and out stepped a bald man dressed in a business suit. Even an alien would recognize him, the papers had recently lauded his return from abroad.

Alexei Luthor.

"You know, Mr Star, you're not as hard to find as I anticipated, you're basically a flying beacon." The younger man smiled, approaching him.

"Find me? Why have you been looking for me, Mr… Luthor?" Sinestro readied himself, in case Luthor had some foul play in mind, charging his ring slightly. The stories he had heard of his father had not been pleasant.

"Hehe, at ease my friend, I come in peace, as cliché as that sounds…" Luthor smiled and held his hands up in a non-aggressive gesture, showing his intentions. "I have a proposition for you.."

Relaxing in posture a little, Sinestro raised an eyebrow in suspicion. He felt Luthors seemingly honest nature, but he was still wary. "Proposition?"

Luthor walked over to his would-be ally, staring out over the cityscape as well. "You have chosen a beautiful city as a home, my friend. Metropolis is like this too, beautiful but still, the taint of crime lingers…"

Unknowingly stroking his ring with his thumb, Sinestro looked back at him. "Yes… it never seems to stop, does it? You stop one criminal, two more happens while you're busy with the first…"

Luthor smiled. "When I returned to Metropolis after travelling the world, I had gained some insights. I swore to repair the damage my father and others like him had caused, to use what I have to help those in need. But I cant do much by myself. I cant be everywhere at once, and I think you have the same problem…"

Shining Stars silence told the truth. Luthor turned to him once more, offering him a handshake. "You see, I'm putting this group together…"

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**A.N: **Thanks for the reviews everyone. I'm glad to hear people are enjoying this little side project. To the reviewer who mentioned that there are no female members in my league, I know, I thought about it, but to be honest, there aren't that many good female villains, aside from possibly Catwoman. So maybe, we'll see. Also, for those who wonders, the Red Terror is the evil counterpart to the mainstream Crimson Avenger.


	4. Laugh, clown, laugh!

"_**I am The Spectre, ever-present, all-knowing hand of The Presence. **__**I observe all realities, all possibilities. The line between comedy and tragedy is razor-thin, and oftentimes the line becomes blurred entirerly. The same thing can be said of the line between chaos and order, between evil and justice, darkness and light… "**_

Nobody really wanted to live in Gotham City. Perhaps once it had been a good city, founded on the dreams and hopes of immigrants and outcasts. Or perhaps it had always been bad. Perhaps it had always been a black, corrupted stain on the coast of Gotham Bay, reeking of it's own brand of evil and decay.

It was kind of funny if you thought about it.

The mob ruled Gotham, had done so as long as anyone could remember. Some even say that Boss Gordons ancestors had been among the first settlers here. Not that it really mattered; all that did matter was that Gordon ruled the city. Well, he and the other crime families constantly warring for dominion. The Montoyas, the local Russian offshoots the Bullochs, battling in the streets, sinking their claws into city hall, into the police, everywhere.

A joke really.

It had been a night like this one, almost 15 years ago that changed everything. Another dreary, cold night when the smog hung heavy in the air. A new comedy club had just opened, in the ritzier neighbourhoods of course, Jake's Komedy Klub. It was an instant success, even the damned likes to laugh.

The Gordons wanted in. They didn't like that anyone made money in Gotham without paying them. Neither did any of the other crime families. No one really knew who had put out the order. But one night, 15 years ago, Jake's Komedy Klub went up in a fireball. 200 people, dead, among them Jake and Harley Napier, the owners. Funny in an ironic way.

But maybe you had to have been there.

15 long years since his life was ruined. That was why he was up here after all, among the dark skyscrapers of Gotham, his cape fluttering in the wind, the city lights glittering off his goggles. 15 years since he had sworn an oath to clear up the city, to give the citizens reason to _smile. _Like he always did. Like he had to do. He was worried he might go a little crazy otherwise.

15 long years he trained, in combat, in stealth, in everything he might need. He had even picked up a bit of singing experience while he was at it. The night he had returned to Gotham, he had been reading a book about urban legends.

He found the stories about Spring-Heeled Jack fascinating.

He took his inspiration from the mythical figure, his name, designed his costume after him. Dark leather hiding bulletproof armor, goggles and a mask covering his face, complete with a pair of demonic horns. All tastefully accented with a black cape. And of course, the coup de grace, a smiley face button.

Evil hates irony.

Besides, Watchmen was totally awesome.

Giggling as he surveyed the city, his city, keeping his ears peeled for the wail of sirens, gunshots, screams, the song of Gotham. It had been unusually quiet tonight, he had been working really hard ever since he put on the mask. He was already a terror of the night, a mythical being, like the Spring-Heeled Jack of old. He hoped Commissioner Falcone had a reason to smile tonight. The old man deserved a break, as one of the few uncorrupted cops in the city.

Finally, he stepped off the edge of the building, plummeting towards the pavement far below, the wind gripping his cape, making him look like the otherwordly demon some said he was. Throwing out a hookshot, shaped to look like a ghastly grinning mouth, making the hook grab onto a nearby ledge, he swung himself into the city night, still surveying for crime.

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The night had remained fairly uneventful. Only a few muggers had ventured outside tonight, and they were easily disposed of, one had even fainted before Jack had managed to lay a hand on him. And none of the old gang at Arkham had escaped either. He would almost be worried about the recent rise of "super" villains, but could you really call them super? Having a retarded Halloween costume and a psychosis does not a villain make…

Chuckling to himself, he was sitting on another rooftop, tall enough to see out over the entire city, all the way out to Gotham Bay and even the suburbs. But since when did a LexCorp building ever not stand out?

Grinning widely to himself, Jack suddenly spoke "You can come out now, Mr Luthor, I already know you're there. Your cologne is overpowering even the stench of the Bay"

Stepping out from behind the rooftop access door, the multi-millionaire Alexei Luthor revealed himself. "You live up to your reputation, Mr Jack. You've made a name for yourself in just, what, little over a year?"

"I trust you had business in my city, _Mr Luthor_" Jack almost spat out the words "Very few come looking for my company, Trust me, I tend to become grating in the long run, ahehehhe"

"Oh, I do indeed. I couldn't help but read about your exploits in the papers. Criminals turning up paralyzed in front of the police stations, with grins frozen on their faces? You have a flair for the dramatic…."

Jack giggled. "Hey, everyone needs to smile, maybe they'll think next time before they try robbing old ladies of their pensions. Besides, it's not like a smile can _kill _them or anything."

Luthor nodded, before reaching inside his suit, pulling out a card with an address on it. "Come by my office some time. I think I have a way for you to spread the cheer…"

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**A.N: **Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, and to those who have been wondering, yes, I will be adding a female to the roster, to bring it up to 7 members. My original idea actually included a heroic Lobo, but half his deal is being an asshole, so… Anyway, thanks to user **Cleome45** for the idea.

Also, for those of you interested in the details of Jacks costume, this is a drawing I did of Spring-Heeled Jack, a while back before starting this fic:

.com/art/quot-I-m-Batman-I-mean-Jack-quot-98865428


	5. Survivors Guilt

**The Other Side: Survivors Guilt**

"_I am The Spectre, ever-present, all knowing hand of The Presence. I know all that have been, will be and what can be. A machine can perhaps claim that it does not ascribe to human perceptions of right and wrong, that it is separate from morality, but this is not always so. In another world entirerly, a nightmare in machinery can become a preserver rather than a destroyer. Because the preservation of knowledge is second to one thing alone, the preservation of life."_

The world-famous University of Chicago was not exactly the most common place for a professor barely out of school himself would normally find himself employment. And yet, that was exactly what Professor William Docks had done. Mainly because William Docks was one of the most intelligent people on the planet.

His IQ had been difficult to measure exactly, but experts had declared that it ranked easily somewhere in the 300's, though possibly even higher. When the news of his amazing mathematical and scientific skills had reached the scientific community, the job offers had flooded in from all over the world. Most interested in helping young minds, and having adopted Chicago as his new home already, William Docks had chosen a job as a professor of mathematics at the University. There had been some problems with finding out about his background however, as those who looked into it could find very little about his life prior to his enrolment in college 6 years prior.

That was because William Docks wasn't from Earth.

Those who looked at the professor saw a man in his mid-30's, both well-built and tall, bald and shaven, with a pair of glasses and usually clad in a lab coat, even when teaching. He was handsome, and he suspected that quite a few of his female students, and possibly some of the male ones, had taken the class partially to be near him.

His admirers had no idea that what they saw was noting but a disguise.

Beneath the human exterior laid the metal interior of his true visage, that of the artificial intelligence Brainiac, sole survivor of Krypton.

The classes had let out for the day, and the enigmatic professor had just finished the final few works for the day. Putting away the various student papers he had been grading, his computer mind finding the task almost childishly easy. Human sciences weren't exactly primitive but they were nothing compared to the tasks he had handled on Krypton.

Krypton…

Standing up from his desk, Brainiac quickly walked through the almost deserted corridors and finally stepped out into the darkening Chicago evening, his sense receptors picking up the scents and views of the campus. The students were still bustling around, on their way to whatever activities they had planned for after school. He smiled to himself, feeling an odd sense of fulfilment over his work at the school, which was soon replaced with melancholy.

Sometimes he truly wished the Science Council had not equipped his programming with emotions.

He didn't feel like being pulled aside by colleagues or students wanting to discuss theories, or papers or anything else tonight, and he definitely didn't want to be cornered by one of his enamoured students again, after an incident a few weeks prior. Romance was definitely not part of his current plans.

Making sure he was alone, and out of range from any of the lit windows, he pressed a button on his wristwatch, which disabled the hologram disguise he wore as William Docks, stripping away his human exterior to show the robotic body that was Brainiac. He was a blue-skinned humanoid, the same build and size of his human self, bald and white lenses for eyes, with a strange triangular pattern of diodes on his forehead, a symbol the Council had designed for his interface on Krypton. The rest of his body was clad in black armor plating on his chest and legs, with silver gauntlets and boots, as well as silver shoulderpads.

And so, making sure he was not seen, Braniac took off into the darkening sky, heading out of Hyde Park and out over the cityscape.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Flying over the city like this always gave him time to reflect on his fate and current path. Even though his digital mind didn't need to reflect on anything, what is done is done, he had found more and more during his time among humanity that the other part of his mind, the one ruled by emotions, needed to…think.

The robotic body he now inhabited had been constructed out of necessity. It had been nearly 30 years since Krypton was destroyed now, though time meant little to him. He didn't age after all.

When he had calculated Kryptons imminent destruction, he had begged the Council to listen to him, to save the people, to evacuate them, but none would listen. Not even Jor-El believed him… His own creator.

He could do nothing more.

He gathered all the knowledge of Krypton, it's history and culture, all of it's advances, and stored it within his databanks, then constructed his robotic body, giving it abilities such as flight, force fields, strength, weaponry, anything he thought it might need. Then he left.

And watched as his home was wiped out.

He remembered he wished he could cry.

After that he drifted across the cosmos, but eventually found his way to Earth, a planet he had heard mentioned by Jor-El previously as the dominant species were apparently a type of genetic twin to kryptonians, only not as far evolved yet. He had failed to save Krypton, but he would help Earth on its way to greatness, in honour of his own people.

It also became quickly apparent that Earth needed all the help it could get.

Like the kryptonians of the past, humans were all too often subjects to their own greed or hate, and thus driven to violence and crime. And so, he dedicated himself to both helping humanity with it's own problems, and educate the future leaders of the planet using the legacy of Krypton, both it's technology and knowledge.

He had chosen Chicago as his adopted home, since his first encounter with a human was with a dying police officer named John Jones from the city. He managed to subdue the criminal the officer was trailing, but was too late to save his life. The officer had not known exactly what he had met on the last moments of his life, but it had set Brainiac down this path.

And there he was now, soaring far above the city he had begun to call home. The city that had already accepted him as its protector. He smiled to himself as he thought of the headlines of the Tribune the day after his first major skirmish with the man, who had become something of a nemesis to him, the extraterrestrial war criminal known as the White Martian, the only surviving member of the Martian civilization, by his own hand. He had come to give Earth a similar fate he had given his homeworld, but Brainiac had managed to stop him and drive him offworld.

His presence had been rumoured prior to that, but after he had actually saved the whole city, he had become a major celebrity. He did show the adoring public affection, since he didn't want to come off cold and distant, more than he already did at any rate, but it was still rather baffling of how well they had taken to him. He was glad that they liked him, but even for a machine the fame was tiring. He sometimes wondered if the other heroes of Earth had to deal with the same pressure.

His sensors suddenly began to pick up a large energy signature overhead, and as he scanned the skyline he spotted two figures flying towards him in a protective golden aura, an energy signature he recognized as belonging to that of the Shining Star Corps. The second figure…

"Ahh, the android protector of Chicago, Brainiac. It's a pleasure to meet you"

He recognized the bald man immediately, the business magnate Alexei Luthor, recently returned to Metropolis. You didn't need a computer brain to recognize him. The Shining Star was the one that protected Coast City, though he had not met him personally so far.

"Alexei Luthor, multibillionaire, from Metropolis, net worth roughly 6 Billion US Dollars, owner of LexCorp, and Sinestro, Shining Star #1961, native of Korugar"

Brainiac listed his whole data of the pair as a greeting, a habit he had retained from his days back on Krypton. If the two were surprised, they didn't show it. Sinestro kept his stone face and Luthor merely smiled.

"Very extensive, Mr Brainiac, but I'd expect as much from the smartest mind on the planet, next to myself of course." Luthor jokingly suggested.

"What brings you here, Mr Luthor? This is ways of from Metropolis."

"Well, is there some place where we can talk uninterrupted?"

Brainiac raised an eyebrow.

"You see, I'm putting together this little group…"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Authors Notes: Wow, that was a long time between updates, huh? Well, atleast I'm rather satisfied with this addition. I added two pretty interesting references, for example, William Docks is a twist on Brainiacs Silver Age name, Vril Dox. And Sinestro's Shining Star number is the year he was introduced, 1961._

_-H.M_


End file.
